


'cause they'll all burn out one day

by guardyanangel



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardyanangel/pseuds/guardyanangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don’t think there’s any of us now who’d want our loved ones to know the things we’ve had to do to survive.” Pre-canon, but sort of spoilers for backstory revealed in S1M3 and a character introduced in S1M21.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'cause they'll all burn out one day

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "All the Little Lights" by Passenger. Written for the Iron Zombies Challenge and inspired by this prompt: http://oi60.tinypic.com/29zvbpj.jpg and vaguely by this: http://oi62.tinypic.com/2cyqip2.jpg

There’s a hollow look in Runner Six’s eyes when she breezes back through the gates, the sound of gunfire and the low moans of zombies in her wake. Eight notes stray viscera and zombie goop on the axe that the other Runner is carrying, and her stomach sinks briefly at the possibilities that present themselves as reasons for the blank expression on Maggie’s face. She almost doesn’t want to ask.

But Runners take care of each other, and a distracted Runner isn’t in good if they need to go out and run again. So she makes her way to where the other woman is cleaning the axe.

“Hey Six,” she says in greeting, cocking a questioning brow her way.

It’s all the encouragement Maggie needs get talking—she’s always been freer with her emotions than Eight herself has been.

“They were kids, Sara,” she responds hollowly, and it’s not so long since the apocalypse began that Eight’s able to keep herself from flinching at the words, “They must’ve been on some sort of trip, or something, because there was a whole group of them, and I had to—had to…”

She doesn’t need to finish. They both know what she had to do. It still doesn’t change the fact that Six looks rather as though she’s been punched in the gut repeatedly.

Or, you know. Like she’d had to kill a bunch of kids—even though Eight tries to firmly tell herself that they weren’t kids anymore.

(It didn’t really help.)

She rests her hand briefly on the other Runner’s shoulder, “Get cleared by Dr. Myers and get cleaned up. Then meet me over by the rec center.”

There’s a question in Maggie’s eyes, but she nods without asking, “All right. See you in about fifteen.”

Eight nods in reply, then moves away in the direction of her quarters.

\--

She can’t help the way her hands shake just slightly as she locates a lighter and the bag of joints she’d been slowly working her way through. She never thought she’d be one to ever get into recreational drug use, but then, there were a lot of things she’d never thought she’d do.

(Like kill kids.)

But, well. She supposes that’s the sort of thing the apocalypse helps you realize.

\--

Six still looks a little worse for the wear when she meets her, but she’s not bit and she’s not injured, so at least she’s got that going for her. Eight waits until the other woman's closer before she holds up the bag.

“You look like you could use one of these.”

“Oh, Sara, are you sure? The next Skoobs run isn’t for another couple weeks.”

“You had a hard run today,” Eight says firmly, handing her a joint, “You need it.”

Maggie hesitates a moment longer, then accepts it. Eight lights it for her easily, then does the same for her own.

For a while, there’s silence. Then, Six speaks suddenly.

“I never had kids,” she says abruptly, “I did want to, but the timing never felt right. Used to teach a swimming class, though. Lots of little ones in the summer. By the time school started up again it was always like I was saying goodbye to my own. So today—” She cuts off, shakes her head and takes a drag of the joint, “I just can’t imagine, all those children not getting to say goodbye to the parents.”

“Yeah,” Eight says, and she’s well aware that the sudden tightness in her throat is clear in her voice.

It has Maggie glancing over at her sharply, “I’m sorry, Sara. Did you—?”

“Two boys.” She’s surprised she’s able to get it out, “Got infected the second week. Had to do them and my husband in myself.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” And she has to take a long, long drag before she speaks again, “If anything, I’m just glad they’re not here to see this.”

Maggie looks at her, and then squints up at the sky, clearly deep in thought.

“Yes,” she finally says, “I suppose you’re right. I don’t think there’s any of us now who’d want our loved ones to know the things we’ve had to do to survive.”

“Makes you wonder if it’s even worth it,” Eight mutters, and Six turns to her quickly once more.

“Oh, it has to be,” she says, “It _has_ to be.”

Neither of them want to point out that it sounds very much like she’s still trying to convince herself, so instead they stand in silence, smoking until the joints finally go out.


End file.
